A/N: Wow, three whole reviews and no flames! I want to apologize for last
chapter being so short, I had originally written it as a prologue, and only
called it chapter 1 because I don't like it when the numbers don't match.
Anyway, on to the story!
**************
The girl gave up trying to hide her face from Racetrack. She sighed. "Yeah, it's me."
"What da hell happened to ya? You a drag?"
"No, Race, I ain't a drag-"
"But yous is in goil clothing. And yous got breasts! Spot, how da hell'd you get breasts?"
"Race-"
"Yous is wearin' make-up too! What da hell is goin' on here?!"
"You gonna let me answer now, or are ya gonna ask me tweny more questions?" Spot shot Race a look that never failed to quiet anyone that was annoying him. Sure enough, Race only gulped then shut his mouth. "Before I tell ya anything, get yous doity mitts offa me and lets go someplace where halfa Manhattan ain't gonna hear what I gotta say." Without waiting for an answer, Spot turned and stormed off. Racetrack regained enough of his senses to trot along meekly behind.
Spot didn't slow down until they had reached an alleyway. There, Spot stopped, checked to make sure the alley was empty, then pulled Race in by his ear.
Spot paced anxiously while Race stood watching. After a couple of minutes, Racetrack's curiosity got the better of him, and he said, "So, are you gonna tell me, or should I-" Spot glared and Race shut up.
"Look, dis is hard for me to talk about, okay? I neva told anybody before, and I don't know what to say."
"How bout you start by telling me why da hell da famous Spot Conlon is standin' in front a me lookin' like a friggin' goil?" Racetrack's voice cracked on the last two words.
Spot sighed angrily, stared Racetrack in the eye, and said calmly, "Dat's because I am a girl."
"No yous ain't."
"Yeah, I am."
"Yous can't be. All dose goils I seen you take to bed wicha-"
"Were just friends I wanted ta talk to." When Race only gaped at him, Spot said, "Did ya ever hear any noises comin' from me room when I had a goil ova?"
Thinking it over, Race realized he hadn't. It also suddenly dawned on him that Spot never took his shirt off or went swimming with the others. But,
"Your breasts?" he managed to say.
Spot blushed. "I tie them flat wid a piece of cloth." Spot ran her fingers nervously through her hair. "Look, Racetrack, yous can't breathe a woid a dis to anyone."
Race made no response, still shocked at the idea of the most feared Newsie in al of New York being nothing more than a weak, scrawny girl.
Spot's eyes filled with pleading. "Come on, Race. We been buddies a long time now. If any of da guys finds out, they'd prolly kill me. Don't tell anyone." Then, she added quietly, so softly that Race wasn't quite sure that he had even heard it, "Please."
This scared Racetrack. He never in his life heard Spot Conlon ask nicely for anything. Even if he is really a girl, he shouldn't beg.
Racetrack mock-pouted. "Aw, Spot, wid all we been trough tageda, yous doubting my reliability?" More seriously he added, "Yous can trust me. I won't tell."
Spot smiled at Race. "Thanks."
"Can I ask yous somethin'?"
"Will I answer?" Spot had regained most of the attitude she normally had while commanding her Brooklyn newsies.
Racetrack paused for a moment, as though unsure whether or not to ask, but decided the risk was worth it. "How come yous pretend ta be a boy when yous actually a goil?"
"Well, let's see. Maybe 'cause if they know I'm a goil, they'll eida rape me or murder me. Or both."
"Dat's not what I mean." Race searched for the right words. "Why'd ya start in da first place?"
Spot sighed. "Well-" She abruptly stopped when Race held a finger to his lips. He'd heard something. There it was again.
Someone was looking for Race, calling his name, and they were only a few steps away from the alley's entrance.
************************
Well, there you are. Maybe now the flames'll start for anyone that didn't get that Spot was a girl. The next chapter will probably take a long time for me to write, at least a week, so I hope you'll all be patient for me.
See ya then.
**************
The girl gave up trying to hide her face from Racetrack. She sighed. "Yeah, it's me."
"What da hell happened to ya? You a drag?"
"No, Race, I ain't a drag-"
"But yous is in goil clothing. And yous got breasts! Spot, how da hell'd you get breasts?"
"Race-"
"Yous is wearin' make-up too! What da hell is goin' on here?!"
"You gonna let me answer now, or are ya gonna ask me tweny more questions?" Spot shot Race a look that never failed to quiet anyone that was annoying him. Sure enough, Race only gulped then shut his mouth. "Before I tell ya anything, get yous doity mitts offa me and lets go someplace where halfa Manhattan ain't gonna hear what I gotta say." Without waiting for an answer, Spot turned and stormed off. Racetrack regained enough of his senses to trot along meekly behind.
Spot didn't slow down until they had reached an alleyway. There, Spot stopped, checked to make sure the alley was empty, then pulled Race in by his ear.
Spot paced anxiously while Race stood watching. After a couple of minutes, Racetrack's curiosity got the better of him, and he said, "So, are you gonna tell me, or should I-" Spot glared and Race shut up.
"Look, dis is hard for me to talk about, okay? I neva told anybody before, and I don't know what to say."
"How bout you start by telling me why da hell da famous Spot Conlon is standin' in front a me lookin' like a friggin' goil?" Racetrack's voice cracked on the last two words.
Spot sighed angrily, stared Racetrack in the eye, and said calmly, "Dat's because I am a girl."
"No yous ain't."
"Yeah, I am."
"Yous can't be. All dose goils I seen you take to bed wicha-"
"Were just friends I wanted ta talk to." When Race only gaped at him, Spot said, "Did ya ever hear any noises comin' from me room when I had a goil ova?"
Thinking it over, Race realized he hadn't. It also suddenly dawned on him that Spot never took his shirt off or went swimming with the others. But,
"Your breasts?" he managed to say.
Spot blushed. "I tie them flat wid a piece of cloth." Spot ran her fingers nervously through her hair. "Look, Racetrack, yous can't breathe a woid a dis to anyone."
Race made no response, still shocked at the idea of the most feared Newsie in al of New York being nothing more than a weak, scrawny girl.
Spot's eyes filled with pleading. "Come on, Race. We been buddies a long time now. If any of da guys finds out, they'd prolly kill me. Don't tell anyone." Then, she added quietly, so softly that Race wasn't quite sure that he had even heard it, "Please."
This scared Racetrack. He never in his life heard Spot Conlon ask nicely for anything. Even if he is really a girl, he shouldn't beg.
Racetrack mock-pouted. "Aw, Spot, wid all we been trough tageda, yous doubting my reliability?" More seriously he added, "Yous can trust me. I won't tell."
Spot smiled at Race. "Thanks."
"Can I ask yous somethin'?"
"Will I answer?" Spot had regained most of the attitude she normally had while commanding her Brooklyn newsies.
Racetrack paused for a moment, as though unsure whether or not to ask, but decided the risk was worth it. "How come yous pretend ta be a boy when yous actually a goil?"
"Well, let's see. Maybe 'cause if they know I'm a goil, they'll eida rape me or murder me. Or both."
"Dat's not what I mean." Race searched for the right words. "Why'd ya start in da first place?"
Spot sighed. "Well-" She abruptly stopped when Race held a finger to his lips. He'd heard something. There it was again.
Someone was looking for Race, calling his name, and they were only a few steps away from the alley's entrance.
************************
Well, there you are. Maybe now the flames'll start for anyone that didn't get that Spot was a girl. The next chapter will probably take a long time for me to write, at least a week, so I hope you'll all be patient for me.
See ya then.